Never Easy part two

After spending a day standing up going through boxes of papers, letters, notes, photos, messages, bills, drawings....etc. I've decided to sit down. PHEW!

Standing in the cold shuffling papers while two men hammered and puffed and pulled pipes in the house, was entertained by Christmas tapes and CDs (getting tired of this music) and became an inner journey of 30 years with one woman.

Creating a small pile of photos and writings, I separated the rest to a shred pile and a trash bag pile.

The sun moved across the sky as box after box was emptied and tossed into a pile of their own.

Letters from my mother to her mother about the missing uncle in WWII, the 1983 wedding book, the 90's health problem culminating in the 2002 heart attack, and the ever repetitive copies of notes and print outs to doctors and herself about her lack of health and dreams filled my reading task.

And yet, there is still no hot water. The gas has been turned off at the street, so the city must be called to reinstate the fuel.

The other little project, to replace the kitchen down drain, turned into an estimate to replace a bunch of pipes.

So at the end of the day, I have a sore back, a bunch of plaster wall missing, no kitchen sink, lots of pipes running out of the foundation, no gas, squirrels in the attic, lots of bags of trash, a small pile of photos and notes, and the thought of replacing the master joist of this money drain.

Tomorrow is another day, so sleep well with a few adult drinks, leave the bathroom dripping, and await for the snow with a small electric heater.

The positive look is the amount of trash created. The negative look....?

Just another life is never easy.

Sleep well tonight.

In A Fog

After a weekend of cold dripping, I walked out to the front porch as I do to access the day. The temperature still showed the breath and the clouds were still draping the trees.

A quick breakfast of water and oranges, and changing my hooded sweatshirt from grey to orange for visual impact, I prepared for my morning ride. Visibility was reduced to a few feet but the path was the same as the sun began to burn off the mist.

The mind was still in a fog of the plumbers and rust and metal and boxes and wood and paper moved over the weekend. Anticipation of more work on basic elements of living and the economics involved kept my pedals churning.

I glanced at my odometer during a water break and it read “911”. My thoughts wondered the meaning, then I anticipated the number of trips to take before the end of the year to reach “1,000”, but this was not the sign.

So with plans to distribute the empty trashcans and attack the 13 steps, I suddenly felt my pace slow. “Uh oh!” Pulling over to the curb and checking the back tire I could see the wear and knew it was done.

A slow 3 block walk home, lunch, noon news refreshed me to walk in the sunshine to my local biking shop for a quick repair.

Back home and the exercise program continues with more boxes and wood. Piece by piece carried carefully down the 13 steps and carried out into piles for sorting, cutting and packing.

And in the fog, I found 6 black file cabinets. Opening a single drawing it was packed with papers. Letters? Notes? Drawings? I didn’t even look, just pushed the drawer back in for another day.

Exercise Program No. 2

13 Steps.

No not AA, thirteen steps upstairs. A narrow row of wooden steps leading up into the darkness.

Motivation?

Raining in the dining room.

Time to make room for a new hot water heater.

Exercise Program

What is a 61-year-old Santa to do to get some exercise on a cold and impending rainy day?

How about a 10 mile spin on a bike with the sun peaking in now and then to give possible promise of a outdoor day.

Another ride to the grocery for paper towels and soup Santa gets his senior discount and another 3 miles.

Look at the list of things to do. “Make some space…”

OK, it’s time to move 10 sheets of wallboard.

Grab the concrete wrapped in paper and drag them out the front door, down the steps, around the gate, over the bumpy walkway and into the shed where space has been made for the new occupant. Panting and puffing, Santa grabs up his shorts and walks back to get another one, following the white path back to the open door.

Santa will sleep well tonight as the rain serenades by keeping beat on the floor with the holiday tapes.

Sleep

It's Saturday night.

The clock reads one twenty one.

Normally I would be in bed under the covers, but tonight was football night awaiting the snow.

The snow didn’t mount too much, but the football was great.

Drift into music and the thought of sleep.

While working, I must wake at a certain time to gather my thoughts and dress and eat and venture out into the world to produce for an organization that paid me to produce a product.

Now, I am on my own time.

The same 24 hours a day. The same 7 days a week.

Dreams are the first to change.

First there were frantic searching through vacant old buildings for something unknown with characters from an office but vague in message.

Then the dreams faded, but the sleep patterns became consistent.

Tire early, around 10pm, and off to bed. A quick and easy exhausted sleep overcame me until around 2am. A walk down the hall through the dark yet familiar passage and back to the warmth of several covers and a woven neck cuddlier put me back to sleep.

At the break of dawn, I awake. Every morning is the same, no matter if I go to bed at 9pm or 6am. It is a strange occurrence. I must wake up with the sun.

So it is 1:38am and I am listening to a recording of a bunch of geezers that make me smile in a chilling room.

It is time to wander down the hall, turn off the lights and climb under the sheet, cover, quilt, and wool blanket. For it will be chilly tonight preparing me for the winter dreams.

Just Another Day

Wake at sunrise remembering the wonderful dinner and conversation with an old high school friend. Creative ideas still abound.

Morning nourishment and welcome the morning sun. No fog or dew this morning, just the leftover moisture from the stormy rain.

Fill the water bottle and strap on the gloves and helmet. Time for a ride.

The usual path, yet always something different. Little traffic and more parked cars. More people are staying at home today, making a long weekend. Press on and soon the trip is done and I'm home.

Take a breathe and read the old news in the paper with Mexican bread and water and wind. Yet the sun warms the leaves and the little birds beckon for their breakfast.

The final wall has to come down, filling a trash can with styrofoam and dust. Two wardrobes are dragged down the path to the disassembling area.

Now it is time to wait until next Monday when I can start refilling the trash.

And so another saga goes.

But yesterday, I reunited with an old artist buddy with a ton of ideas and energy. Hopefully we can keep the flow going, as seems to be difficult with thoughts and dreams unrealized.

And tomorrow? Perhaps a breakfast at a familiar pub with coffee and conversation and hopefully new contacts and not good byes.

So the darkness blows in the cold air and it is time to sleep and await the morning light and a new adventure.

Loneliness

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Interesting excerpt from a book I recently read.

“Try to imagine what the opposite of loneliness is.

Think of it.

.

Everyone in the world loves you? What is that?

Realize you are in isolation.

Live it! Enjoy it!

Just be glad that there aren’t a bunch of people who want to use up your time. Because along with all the love and admiration that’s going to come from the people that would keep you from being lonely, there is the emotional freight you have to bear from people who are wasting your time, and you can’t get that back

.

So when you’re lonely and all by yourself, guess what you have?

You have all your own time.

That’s a gritty good fucking deal.

Something you couldn’t buy any place else.

And every time you’re out being sociable and having other people be “nice” to you so you don’t feel “lonely”, they are wasting your time.

What do you get for it?

Because after they’re done being nice to you they want something from you.

And they’ve already taken your time!

Loneliness… is not a bad deal. It’s a good deal.” Frank Zappa

Be creative in your time and you will not be lonely.